


Transcendental Blues

by Maverick



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:23:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry and Vic commiserate. </p><p>Set somewhere in the not so distant future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transcendental Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tigerlady (shetiger)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/gifts).



> To tigerlady, I hope you enjoy. I do apologize for the lack of Walt in this story, but I just couldn't get his cadence down to my satisfaction. He does however loom large throughout. 
> 
> Thanks to my beta. And the title comes from the Steve Earle song of the same name that opened the Longmire series.

_If I had it my way, everything would change  
Out here on this highway the rules are still the same  
Back roads never carry you where you want 'em to  
They leave you standin' there with them ol' transcendental blues_

Steve Earle

*~*~*~*~*~*

There were many things that Henry Standing Bear was an expert in: tracking game, Cheyenne history, and how to make a perfectly balanced Manhattan. But there was only one subject that he could write a book on or could spot its effects from miles away. He grabbed a bottle and glasses from the bar and poured a couple of more than generous shots before heading over to the table. He sat one shot down in front of Vic.

Vic raised an eyebrow and her glass.

Smiling, Henry took the seat across from her. “That look can only be caused by one source. I find bourbon to be most medicinal in those instances.” He raised his own glass and clinked it with Vic’s.

Vic downed her shot in one gulp and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Should I be concerned that you know what looks Walt can cause?”

“Possibly. I have been his best friend for 40-odd years. As such, I know where all the dead bodies are buried.” After a beat and a sly smile, Henry continued, “figuratively speaking of course.”

Vic raised her glass and Henry motioned for the bartender to bring over the bottle. “So what has Walt done this time?”

Vic poured herself another shot and downed it, as Henry drank his own. “He wants me to move in with him.”

That made sense. Nothing caused an existential crisis like the overtures of a man whose idea of conversation centered on corpses and culprits and not much else. But he would have thought Vic would be happy. They had danced around each other for years before settling into a routine that worked for them. Then again… “Too soon?”

Vic rolled her eyes. “Five years coming doesn’t seem like it’s all that soon. I just don’t know if I’m ready or willing to live in her house.”

Henry nodded. That also made sense. The specter of Martha Longmire would always loom large in Walt’s life. Hell, in all their lives. She had been the glue that held them all together. The chaos of the last few years proving that point time and again. But most of all, Martha would have wanted Walt to be happy or as close to happy as Walt was capable of. Vic could and did provide that. It was important that Vic knew that. “Martha would have liked you.”

Sighing, Vic took the bottle and poured Henry another drink before pushing her glass aside. “Walt said the same thing. I don’t know what to do with that.”

When Martha got sick, she made Henry promise not to let Walt step into that grave right along with her. Henry often wondered if she was talking about the cancer or if she had a premonition of what was about to come. After she died, Henry did his best to help Walt tread water, but it was a long time before he was ready to start living again. Vic was a huge part of what got him moving again, first professionally and then personally. “You don’t have to do anything. But it’s true.”

“What was she like?”

There was no easy answer to that, but Henry couldn’t help but be honest. “Not at all like you.”

Vic looked like she’d been slapped. “Wow. Okay.”

Well that didn’t come out like he planned. Henry put his hand over Vic’s. “No, you misunderstand. That’s a good thing. Walt doesn’t need another Martha. He needs someone who’s willing to kick him in the ass when he requires it.” 

Vic smiled, just a little short of bitter, “Well if there’s one thing I’m good at.”

“It’s ass-kicking,” Henry finished for her. Something else was at play here. “If Walt asked you to move in, he’s in it for the long haul.”

Vic grabbed the bottle again and poured them both another shot. She drank hers quick and looked over to meet Henry’s eyes. “I know that. But my track record isn’t all that great.”

“Walt doesn’t care about that.”

“What if I hurt him?”

“You will hurt him at some point. He’ll hurt you. It’s human nature. But if he asked you to live with him, then that’s a risk he’s willing to take.” 

“He seemed shocked that I was hesitant.”

That sounded like Walt. Once he’d worked something out in his head, he was always a little surprised when other people didn’t get it. “You do realize that you’ve gotten yourself involved with someone who expects you to be able to read his silences.” 

Vic smiled again, but the bitter edge was gone. “And at work, I can do that, no problem. But apparently personally I need a little more active participation.”

“That’s why you’re good for him.” 

“How so?”

Henry smiled. “You don’t let him get away with shit. That is one way you are like Martha.” Those simple words seemed to settle something inside Vic. Henry figured he owed it to her and to Martha to continue. “You are like Martha in one other important way as well.”

Vic look intrigued. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, you make him smile. That’s something to treasure.”

“Henry Standing Bear, you sweet talker.”

Vic punched Henry in his arm, but the look she was wearing when she walked in was gone. Henry was going to call it a win. 

And as if he knew all the hard work was done, Walt walked through the door. Henry looked over at Vic and with a raise of his eyebrow, they both broke out in laughter. “Speak of the devil.” Henry caught Vic’s eyes with his. “Make him talk to you.”

Vic smiled. “Kick his ass?”

“Exactly.” Henry stood up and viewed his friend who looked like he was assessing the evidence at a crime scene. If the chuckle that escaped Vic’s mouth was any indication, she thought the same thing. “Walt.”

“Henry.” Walt looked between the both of them and frowned. “Should I be concerned?”

That made both Vic and Henry laugh outright again. “Nah, it’s just the bi-weekly meeting of the Walt Longmire Appreciation Society.”

With a wink to Vic, Henry clasped Walt on the back. “We meet every other Tuesday. It’s an exclusive club, but we can see about getting you a trial membership.”

Vic laughed as Walt’s frown just deepened. “Are you just going to stand there and glower at us or are you going to sit down?”

Walt took a seat. He didn’t say anything for a long while. “You seem to be in better spirits.”

Vic nodded. “Bourbon,” she said as if it answered the question.

“Have you thought about what I asked earlier?”

Vic nodded and stood up. “I have. I’ve got some questions and some stipulations.”

Walt looked at Vic and then over at Henry at the bar. “Stipulations?”  


Vic nodded and jutted her hip against the table. “Yep. Let’s go home and talk about it.”

Henry caught how the look of terror on Walt’s face at the word _talk_ made Vic smile. She was good for Walt. Hopefully the head nod from Henry across the bar would help solidify that for her. She’d called Walt’s place home and for the first time, it sounded like she really believed it could be just that for her. Henry knew Martha would be smiling at that.


End file.
